Something That Never Changes
by Penelope Jadewing
Summary: 100 Themes of the Nightray House. Throughout all the years, during even the thickest of turmoil, if one looked close enough, one could find that thing that never changed. THEME 9: REBIRTH - "It is an honor. I do not think you know how great an honor it is to be contracted to you, my lord Glen." "Call me... Leo."
1. Introduction

**Chapter 1: Introduction**

"Hey… what are you doing here?"

Leo didn't even look up. He didn't want to. Didn't need to. Not many people came into the orphanage library, and those that did usually knew better than to interrupt him. He never left his fantasy world, not for anything, and heaven help someone that disturbed that world. That, at the moment, would be whoever owned this new, unfamiliar voice.

"Isn't it obvious?" he responded, keeping his face turned downward, trying to remain submerged in the novel.

The owner of the voice uttered a growl that made Leo's eyebrows raise under his thick bangs, but he still didn't look up. Still didn't need to.

"Wha… I-I'm Elliot Nightray!"

Leo frowned, finally, reluctantly lifting his face, glancing sidelong to the newcomer. The kid was tall, but not really tall – average, he supposed. Lean, still obviously in the middle stages of adolescence, as Leo was himself. Scruffy sandy hair, and cobalt eyes bright as a clear winter's day and at the moment, narrowed in looming anger. Leo wrinkled his nose; stuffy noble, that's all.

"So what?" he spat, and Elliot Nightray's face began to slowly darken. Leo paid him no heed as he went on. "To put it bluntly, you're distracting me. Can't you see I'm reading?"

Leo paused, and read a bit more of his book. Then he cocked his head, deciding he wasn't quite done with the noble. "Or maybe, just like the main character of this book, you're not going to leave me alone until I kneel before you and kiss your feet?"

"_Eh?_"

Ah, the sound of dumbfounded bewilderment.

Leo sighed, flipping the page and settling back against the bookshelves, ignoring the sharp corners of the wood against his back. He scoffed, letting an amused smirk quirk his mouth. "You're really a bore, you know?"

He heard the eruption coming even before it did. It was to be expected, of course; how else would a self-respecting noble react to such a greeting, after all?"

"CAN'T YOU SEE I'M A NOBLE!?" the youth exploded, and Leo wondered if he'd bring the house down with the utter volume of his outrage. This, of course, only made Leo grin wider.

The young Nightray raved and ranted even when two young men – from the family resemblance, Leo guessed them to be most likely his older brothers – rushed in.

"What's going on, Elliot!?"

"Shut up, Ernest!"

Just as Elliot made a lunge at Leo, who didn't blink, the two of them grabbed him by the arms and dragged him backward.

"CLAUDE! Let go of me! I can handle this myself!"

Leo snickered to himself, pretending to remain consumed by his book. _Yeah, right, you can… _Even as Elliot Nightray was carted out, to be escorted back to the fancy carriage from whence he came, Leo let himself for just a moment relish the sense of accomplishment. By now, he prided himself on his ability to make people hate him. Everyone singled him out as the weird one, anyway; he'd figured it was better to make the reason because he was a jerk, rather than because… Well, because… He shook his head, going back to his reading.

It didn't matter anyhow. Elliot Nightray was just another name on the lengthy list of people he'd irked. He'd assuredly get a lecture from Sister Fianna or one of the other sisters for treating someone of authority in such a way, but what did he care?

He'd probably never see the Nightray boy again, anyway.

_~PH~_

"What? You again?" Leo paused, holding the basket of laundry firmly in front of him. He only hesitated because the kid was standing right in front of him. The Nightray boy obviously hadn't had enough the first round, and had come back for more. Leo cocked his head. "Aren't the children of noble families supposed to go to boarding school?" He paused, and gave a wry grin. "Oh, I see… You didn't make it, did you?"

Elliot narrowed his eyes in a dagger glare, shoulders tensing and fists clenching. "Shut up."


	2. Complicated

**Chapter 2: Complicated**

"Just tell me why, Ernest!" The small boy circled his older brother's strides even as Ernest walked the halls of the manor, having to break his steps every time Elliot rounded in front of him. The 16-year-old* sighed heavily, and yet again attempted to bypass the child to continue on toward the main Hall. But Elliot would not be dissuaded, and followed after in a hurry.

"I told you 'no', Elli," said the older Nightray heir, glancing down at the eight-year-old blond bouncing about at his feet. "You wouldn't understand."

Elliot looked indignant, huffing and folding his arms. "Says who? I understand a lot of things."

"Yeah, well, this isn't one of them." Ernest pushed on, trying to make a beeline for his destination, where maybe he could lock the doors to keep Elliot out. It wasn't something he necessarily wanted to do, but his little brother could be so pestering once he set his mind on something.

"How would you know if you won't even tell me?" the boy whined, trotting behind him.

Ernest set his jaw, halting in his steps. His abrupt stop must've caught Elliot off guard, for the boy collided into him from behind, and stumbled back. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave the young boy a mild glare.

"I already told you what you needed to hear. Raven didn't want Claude, and it made everyone angry."

"So, why were you hitting Vincent and Gilbert?" the boy asked boldly, squaring his small shoulders.

Ernest scowled. "It's complicated, Elliot."

"You just say that when you don't want to answer."

"Exactly!" he snapped, and strode forward once again, coming to the large double doors that led into the Hall. He darted through and, just as he heard Elliot's footsteps speed up, slammed the doors shut, snatched the key off the top of the doorframe, and locked the doors behind him. On the other side, Elliot threw himself at the doors, banging away like the child he was.

"HEY! ERNEST! LET ME IN! YOU CAN'T LOCK ME OUT!" The little boy growled, shaking the doors until they rattled, but they would not give, and Ernest quietly set the key on the top of the doorframe once more.

He stepped away from the doors, trying to drown out his little brother's objections as he approached what he had sought during his entire trek across the mansion.

The Nightray gate to the Abyss.

The door loomed tall and sinister at the center of the wall to the far right, and Ernest stared up at it with a grim expression. He came closer and closer still until he stood directly in front of it, craning his neck to look up at its intimidating height.

He would be next. Both Fred and Claude, rejected. It would be his turn, soon.

He clenched his fists. Did he dare hope that maybe, maybe he would break the streak? Maybe Raven would see in him what he hadn't seen in his older brothers. Maybe Ernest would be the one to change the status-quo, make the Nightray family finally equal to the others in power.

Perhaps. He had nothing more than a 'perhaps', but it was the most he had. If it wasn't him… Elliot. Little Elli. True, it was a noble cause, but… For some reason, the idea of the small boy that was his little brother entering even the highest levels of the Abyss made him shudder. Claude and Fred had described it as it was – dark, dank, endless shadow.

Ernest sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. If not Elliot, what other choice did they have?

Vincent and Gilbert?

He clenched his teeth, and his fists. Never! Never. They weren't even true Nightrays. Raven was the Nightrays' Chain, and he could never be contracted by someone other than a Nightray. Never. If he were, then the Nightray name would be scandalized. Who would take them seriously after that? Knowing that none of the legitimate heirs were able to form a contract, and an adopted street rat could? Ernest cringed.

No. It had to be him.

_But what if it isn't? _The lingering doubt pulsed through his skull, and he rubbed his temple tiredly. Ugh… How much more complicated could it get?

_*Ernest's age is not revealed, so I guessed him to be a little older than Gilbert._


	3. Future

**Theme: Future**

"Aren't you a little old for this kind of thing?"

Elliot's shoulders stiffened, and he glanced back at his valet, clenching and unclenching his fists. Leo stared blankly at him – or, he could only guess so. He never could see Leo's eyes under all that hair, and the glasses were no help.

"What are you talking about?" Elliot replied, trying to remain polite even though he knew exactly what Leo was insinuating.

"The fact that you're fighting an imaginary opponent."

Elliot's lip twitched and he took a deep breath, leaning back on his heels and folding his arms across his chest. It was a good thing he was taller than Leo; it helped with what little intimidation he could pull over the orphan. Raising his chin, he said matter-of-factly, "I only fight 'imaginary' opponents because no one else is good enough."

Leo scoffed. "Yeah, right. Just yesterday, you got beat up by that creepy white-haired guy for the… How many times did you say? Eighteen?"

"Shut up…" Elliot grumbled, resuming his trudge across the yard, toward the woods. That was where the imagined 'Zekred' went. Besides, Elliot felt like climbing a tree. Get up off the ground, feel the wind moving the branches… and ignore Leo for a couple minutes.

"That's a favored phrase of yours, isn't it?" said Leo as he followed, carrying the case that normally held Elliot's new sword.

The Black Rapier, sword of his father, and his father before him. A weapon that had been in the Nightray family for years. Since Gilbert had contracted Raven, Duke Nightray had entrusted the heirloom to him. Just like he told Gilbert, Elliot was going to represent his family his own way.

"What are you smiling about?"

Elliot blinked. "Eh?"

"You were staring at me with this weird look on your face."

Cue sweatdrop. The one downside to having a servant that didn't think anything of your nobility. Blunt as a spoon. Nevertheless, Elliot had no intention of letting the noire know that he'd almost gotten the upper hand. "Pah! Don't flatter yourself! I was thinking about my sword!" To punctuate that statement, he gave the black weapon a test swing or two, and paused at the nearest tree. "Which you will be holding now."

Leo had barely caught the hilt of the sword that was thrust into his hands before Elliot had swung onto the lowest branch, and hoisted himself into the tree. He glanced down to find his valet, again, staring blankly up at him.

"You know, for someone who thinks so highly of their place in society, you certainly don't act like it when no one else is watching."

"JUST BE QUIET! You're ruining the effect!" But he didn't miss the slight smile that crossed Leo's face. That irking grin that meant he'd found Elliot's irritation amusing again.

"Ugh, why do I even bother?" he muttered before climbing higher.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that you're turning fifteen next week?"

The treebranch he was leaning on snapped and he wavered.

"If you fall, I'm not catching you," Leo deadpanned.

"What makes you think it has anything to do with that!?" Elliot snapped over his shoulder, moving his hand to a steadier branch.

Leo shrugged. "Call it a hunch. 'Cause as soon as the Coming of Age Ceremony is over, you won't get away with doing this sort of thing. I don't doubt you'll get a tongue-lashing from your sister as it is."

"Eh. Let her scold me." Settling himself on a broad limb, Elliot leaned back on the trunk, looking out over the countryside beyond the walls of the Nightray estate. "My future comes in seven days. I'm going to enjoy what's left of the present while I have it. Is that okay with you?" He saturated his last 'question' with sarcasm, and peered down at his servant.

After a moment, Leo sat down at the base of the tree, laying the sword and its case gently beside him. "I don't mind."

"Good. Because I think I see what direction Zekred went."

The noire looked up. "I thought you'd forgotten about that."

"Why do you think I'm up here, stupid? I needed to get the layout of the land! He's over that way someplace." Elliot waved a hand in a vague direction before swiveling to climb down. Unfortunately, the first limb he put his foot on snapped under him, sending him flailing straight to the ground. He landed hard on his back with a thud, and the breath whooshed out of his lungs in a pained gasp.

With a groan, he sat up, back aching. It was then he heard a cough right next to him.

"Okay, I lied," Leo moaned through clenched teeth, rolling onto his side with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Yet, a ghost of a grin was on his face. "You fall, I'll _try _to catch you, and we'll both end up breaking something."

All Elliot could do was laugh.


	4. Exploration

**Theme: Exploration**

The wind nearly knocked him off his feet. He staggered to the side on the loose stone drive way, the tails from the bowtie on the lapel of his jacket tickling his face.

It wasn't a bow. Bows were for girls.

He laughed at the wind's audacity, and planted his feet, standing firm against it. Resisting it. Defying it. With a vengeance, it whipped and pushed at him, making him waver, but this time, his feet never left the ground. His hair flew about his face, the force of the unseen foe made his eyes flutter, but he refused to give in.

The trees shook and trembled, their branches bent and creaked as the wind threatened to topple them. The cowards. Stiff brown leaves swirled over the yard, birds soared like kites, the wind the propulsion of both. He watched a robin, a sparrow, a bluebird as they flittered about, and laughed at their merry songs. Spreading out his arms, he imagined that perhaps, if he dreamed hard enough, the wind could pick him up, send him soaring too.

Turning on his heel, he sprinted over the rocks, onto the grass. He almost missed the cool dampness, the soft sponginess of the summer turf beneath his feet, but so long as the blanket of leaves replaced it, it was all right with him. Every step broke the repetitive _phwoomp _of the gusts of wind with a brazen _crunch. _He left duel trails in his wake, like the trail of foamy bubbles left behind a ship as it commandeered the open seas. Not that he'd ever seen one.

The trees now, rather than cowering at the force of the wind, moved in harmony with it, their limbs beckoning him into their embrace, the mysterious shadows of the looming woods. The wind pushed at his back, propelling him along. Every so often, he couldn't resist spreading his arms again, just to feel the wind push on them. Perhaps this was what canvas sails felt like, feeling that great invisible force pushing you to the skies.

Under the canopy of flaming tree branches covered in leaves of orange, red, yellow, the sunlight shifted and warped like the reflection of flames on a hoard of gold. Shadows danced everywhere, and particles of dust glowed in what full shafts filtered through the thick umbrella of trees. His cobalt gaze darted about, never resting on one thing for more than a few moments. There was far too much to see to waste time dallying. After all, it wasn't often that he got to explore outside the walls of the estate. And until he was of age – 15, Father said – these brief ventures into the forest just outside the boundaries would have to do. The squirrels, the slumbering owls, the wily foxes ducking into their holes, the anthills, all would have to wait. First, he had to find _the place_.

As if in a dome, sheltered from the wind, the calls of the birds amplified to a near deafening volume, and still, the wind could not resist adding its voice to the symphony of nature, raising a pulse of strings – the hiss of trembling autumn leaves – amidst the overpowering wind section.

Blackbirds and chickadees fled as he passed, and he watched them disappear into the boughs overhead, squinting at the brightness of the sun. Something large and dark blocked the light, and the forest grew quite suddenly darker. Glancing about at the new shadows, he looked up again, at the intruder. A puff of cloud, dark and grey, was beginning to move off. A ways behind it gathered the rest of the forces – a massive blue-grey thundercloud, coming in straight from the coast, with the power of the wind at its back. It would be upon him soon. He didn't have much time.

The enemy forces had gathered. They were ready. He looked about him. Who did he have?

_T-t-t-t-t-t-tap. _Woodpeckers. Fiery-headed warriors in glittering steel armor, with swords that struck from their mouths.

_Rustle-crunch_. He jumped as a deer broke free of the brush to the right and bounded away with the grace of a dancer. Soldiers armed with maces, tentative but bold, able to blend into their surroundings, giving them the advantage of stealth.

_Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_. A hornet's nest. Fierce forces innumerable, swift and angry in their attacks, merciless with their arrows.

Yes, he had a formidable army himself. He smiled, and looked back up at the coming storm.

"Come on, then!" he cried, waving his arm at it. "We're ready! You'd better be! You'll be nothing but fog when we're done with you!"

He laughed at himself, and scampered away, bounding like the buck he'd startled so. Running on his toes, leaping with the wind, vaulting over fallen branches, he felt weightless, indestructible.

He paused, looking around him for something, something… Ah! Yes. There. He picked up one of the fallen twigs, the straightest one he saw. Now he had a sword for himself. He whirled about; in the uncertain shadows, he could almost imagine he saw a man – tall, intimidating, wrapped in a tattered black cloak that whipped and snapped in the wind like a dark banner.

"We meet again," he uttered to the apparition, imagining it to be some long remembered foe that had past done some wretched deed, as villains were apt to do. "I knew you would follow."

The man swung his sword. His mouth moved, and he put a voice in his throat.

_"Never caught unawares, are we, Edwin?"_

"Never! I can smell evil coming a mile away!" He held his sword at the ready for whenever the fiend should attack. "And I should have killed you last we met, when I had the chance."

_"You would never attack an unarmed opponent. Not you, oh holy knight."_

"Chivalry doesn't apply when dealing with wretches like you!" He paused, reconsidering his words.

Maybe he should swear. His brothers swore when they were angry at things. Especially when they were talking about Gilbert and Vincent. He furrowed his youthful brow, and took a deep breath, opening his mouth again.

"You b-"

"Elliot!"

The villain vanished. The lights had been smothered, and he looked up to see another tendril of cloud blocking the sun. He blinked as he frowned; his time couldn't be up already!

He sighed, letting his sword arm sag. "Coming!"

He trudged back through the forest, which seemed so dull and frightened now. Without the sun's light, shadows conquered everything. The birds fled from the toiling branches, leaves were ripped from their perches to be swept straight into the air, never to be seen again. Branches cracked, and he felt a raindrop hit his forehead.

Dropping his twig, he quickened his pace, feeling more like a fleeing rabbit rather than a bold stag now. He rolled his eyes; if he could, he would so rather stay out in the storm than have to go back and watch it rage in its fury from his bedroom window through a dripping sheet of rainwater.

But orders were orders. Especially when they came from his mother.


	5. Health & Healing

**A/N: This is NOT a pairing story. This is a BROTHER story. I see Elliot and Leo as the kind of best friends that 'stick closer than brothers', the best kind of friends, the truest kind of friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Thank you.**

**Theme: Health and Healing**

Elliot Nightray looked terrible.

Never before had Leo seen his master look so… feeble, weak, helpless. Even from his place standing just inside the bedroom door, he could see plainly the sweat that coated Elliot's face, the sickly palid hue of his already pale face, greyer and clammy with the fever that ravaged his body. The scion had his eyes closed, his face turned up toward the ceiling. Blankets hid every inch of him up to his neck, so that only his head was visible. Dark circles shadowed under his eyes; the maids whispered that he hadn't had a full night's sleep in days. Poor fellow. Even now, he could hear the rasp of every breath the Nightray heir took.

Shaking his head to himself, Leo reached back to close the door. He winced when it creaked, and Elliot stirred. Cobalt eyes blinked open, and his brow furrowed weakly, his expression lacking its usual ferocity.

"You shouldn't be in here." Gosh, even Elliot's voice sounded so much weaker than he'd ever heard it! The words wisped out of the young noble's throat like ghosts of what they once were. As if hearing Leo's thoughts, Elliot grimaced as he attempted to clear his throat, only succeeding in sending himself into a coughing fit. After a moment or two, the coughing died away into pathetic sniffling, and then to silence.

Leo nodded, but approached the bed anyway, readjusting his grip on the book he held under his arm. "But I am."

Elliot's face twisted in what might've resembled his usual look of indignance, but to Leo, it looked more like a grimace of pain. He looked on the Nightray with pity.

"What do you think a quarantine is, stupid?" Elliot spoke even quieter than he had before, probably to avoid another coughing fit. "It means no one is supposed to come in."

"Except servants." Leo paused by his master's writing desk, and pulled out the chair. He turned it around, and sunk down into it.

"Just a single maid, and she wears a mask. Do you _want _to get sick?" Another cough wracked Elliot's frame, making him look feeble and pathetic, all bundled up like a caterpillar. Leo tried not to snicker; it was comical, how high and mighty his master was trying to act, even on a sickbed.

"You do look quite comfortable; I'm sure it's nice not to have to get up, do your studies, or anything like that."

"Oh, shut UP." Coughs ripped from Elliot's throat from the effort to put stress on the last word, and Leo almost felt guilty for making him talk at all.

"Do I look like… I'm having fun?" Elliot took several wheezing breaths, as deep as was possible, to regain the oxygen he'd lost.

Leo shook his head, setting the book on his lap. "No, not really."

"No, duh, Captain Obvious."

"You can stop talking, now; I know it hurts."

Elliot scowled at the ceiling, probably mentally cursing his sickness to Armageddon and back again. But he shut up; that meant Leo was right. No doubt, all the coughing had run the boy's throat raw.

Leo tapped a finger on the book cover, the hollow _thunk _breaking the silence. "Just got Volume 13 in the mail. Thought you might like to hear some to pass the time."

Elliot glanced over in his direction, brow still furrowed, this time with indecisiveness. Leo could guess with what. Should he accept the offer, and be read to 'like a child', as he would most likely claim? Or refuse, and have to wait to find out what happens to Edwin and Zekred?

Finally, he nodded wordlessly, and with a wry grin, Leo opened the front cover, past the title page, to the first page of text. Diverting all his attention to the beginnings of the story, he took a breath, and began reading.

_"Sir Zekred had never been an honest man. Quite the contrary – he was an outright scoundrel who never minded twisting the truth to suit his own purposes. But until Edwin began his quest for fame, the lord had been for the most part quite peaceable. In fact, one might say they had a mutual respect for one another. Zekred admired Edwin for his bravery in defying the rules of their society to search for rank, and Edwin admired Zekred's shining skill with a blade, as the lord had once beaten Edwin solidly, fairly, in a friendly duel._

_Edwin had thought it would remain that way. He had trusted the lord, as far as one could trust a shady man like Zekred. He had even rejected his best friend and loyal servant's word for it! But as the knife dug deeper against his throat, he knew he had been wrong. Edgar had been right all along. _My dear friend, I'm sorry! _he cried out within the confines of his mind, but dared not give Zekred the satisfaction of showing his remorse._

_"With every step you take to further your foolish quest," hissed Zekred, voice quiet and soft as a snake's in his ear, "you steal more and more of my lord's authority – his lands, his fortune, his people. He grows weary of your meddling, you know. He's promised a pretty price for the person who can bring him your head."_

_Edwin pulled against the man's grip, but it was to no avail. The knife, cold and lifeless and hateful as Zekred's stony eyes, dug deeper into his skin, drawing a thin line of blood that oozed crimson down his neck. He gritted his teeth, and again relinquished himself to the traitorous hold._

_"But," oozed Zekred, "I don't like to soil my hands, no, no. Instead… I know – if you continue this foolish quest… Every time you meddle, your precious valet will pay for it. And if you cross my master one more time… I will force you to kill him."_

Leo paused. The room was silent; had been silent for a long while, actually. He glanced up to find Elliot had gone still, eyes closed and chest rising and falling evenly, breaths quiet and easy for the first time since Leo'd come in.

With a sigh, Leo stood, being sure to keep the book open, and went over to the nightstand. He pulled open the drawer in which he knew Elliot kept that Holy Knight bookmark. Snatching it up without a sound, he tucked it between the pages, shut the volume, and set it on the nightstand's surface.

_Pah_, he thought as he headed back for the door. Quarantine! He'd be just fine; Elliot would soon be on the mend, and in the meantime, Leo was determined to try and make things just a bit easier on his friend.

~*PH*~

"You're an idiot, Leo."

"Yeah, you said that…" A cough made Leo's throat burn, and he clenched his jaw, burying deeper under the blankets, as if he could hide from his master's accusing glare. "Yet… here you are, doing the same thing I did."

Elliot scoffed, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "I just got over it. I'm not going to catch it again so quickly."

He held up a familiar volume, giving Leo a wry look at the same time. "Ready to be babied now?"

Leo snickered, only to fall prey to his coughing once more. He finally shook his head, shivering even though he could feel the heat radiating from his feverish skin. "Just hurry up and start reading so you can stop making me do anything that has to do with making noise, laughing or otherwise…"

Looking mighty proud of himself, Elliot sunk down to sit cross-legged on the floor, a good distance from the bed – something maybe Leo should have thought of a week ago. The scion cleared his throat haughtily, and opened the book to where the bookmark kept their place. Reading less fluently than Leo had, but with more emotional investment, Elliot resumed the tale.

_"I will not betray him, swear he to himself. I will never betray him as Zekred did me! Should I do such a vile thing, and I would kill myself for guilt. For I could not live with the weight of such a low sin as this. Therefore, I would give up my dream of remembrance for the very life of my dear friend. For all the name and number in this world is not worth the cost of an innocent life, particularly of one who is like a brother to me. _

_And so Edwin swore, that he would seek out Zekred, he who dared threaten the life of his friend. For anyone who would use innocent life so cavalierly as a bargaining tool did not deserve to keep their own tainted, vile existence. Edgar was Edwin's good friend, and Edwin would protect his friends to his very last breath."_

"Bet that irks you," Leo croaked.

Elliot paused, glancing up from the book pages with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Edwin basically just said he'd sacrifice his life for Edgar."

Elliot vehemently shook his head. "No, he didn't! He _pledged _his life to his friends. There's a big difference."

Frowning, Leo tried not to pay attention to the congestion in his forehead. "How so?"

"When you die for someone you love, it leaves them heartbroken and you might as well have killed them, too. But when you _live _for someone, you devote your time to them, every moment. Edwin's promised himself that he will protect Edgar while he lives and breathes; and that is a truly noble gesture. That is what it means to be a hero. That's _real _sacrifice; the good kind if there ever was one."


	6. Separation

**A/N: Again, this is NOT a pairing story. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please review and let me know what you think! :D**

**~Penelope**

* * *

**Theme: Separation**

"What the h***!?"

"Master Nightray, please, calm yourself," said the headmaster calmly, steepling his fingers as he leaned his elbows on the desk, light from the window reflecting on his silvery hair – what was left of it. But Elliot had no intention of calming himself; they couldn't do this! They had no grounds to do this!

But of course, if he went too far, he'd get suspended, or worse, expelled… "Sorry, sir, but no! This is ridiculous!"

The headmaster shook his head while lowering his hands to clasp firmly on the desk top. "I'm afraid you're the one being ridiculous, Master Nightray. There's no need to get upset."

"There's perfect need to be upset, sir! Leo's my friend, but what's more, he's my _servant_!" Elliot tried his best not to scowl at the headmaster. "It's his _job _to stay with me all day!"

"But too much time and reliance between friends can create an unhealthy dependency on that friendship. So that it makes it difficult to be apart, and as you grow up, which you will, you will not always be together. This school does the same thing with siblings and twins; we separate them so that they have time to meet other students and socialize."

"We socialize just fine!" Elliot insisted, but the headmaster just shook his head.

"You and I both know that isn't true; most of the other students avoid you two, and you two are content to avoid the others, the teachers have told me so. Besides, that's not the point. The point is to ensure that you each can take care of yourselves _on your own_."

"But I can!" Elliot spat, trying to get the headmaster to understand that everything was fine. But the elder would not be swayed.

"There's no discussion; your schedules and classes will be altered so that you two have time apart. You will also be on separate teams in racquetball and riding."

Elliot sighed, barely clinging to his temper. "How long is this for, sir?"

The headmaster shrugged. "Indefinitely, Master Nightray."

Clenching his teeth, he felt the tension in his shoulders and knew that he had to get out of that office, or he'd explode or something. He stared at the floor with an intensity that belied his controlled exterior.

"Is that all?" he uttered darkly. The headmaster waited a moment before nodding.

"Yes, that is all; you may go."

Elliot spun on his heel and marched out of the office, hands balled into fists at his sides and back rigid. He shut the door behind him with a sinister quietness. For the longest moment, he just stood there outside the headmaster's quarters, glaring at the floor, hand hovering over the doorknob. Then slowly, he stalked down the hall, and around the corner…

Then the volcano erupted. He slammed his fist against the wall, wanting to feel something crush under the force of his knuckles as he growled out his rage in a stream of loud curses. His punch left a dent in the lovely wallpapered wall, and then he felt the pain, the consequence for his blow, a pain that made all the bones along his hand throb and ache. He yelled through clenched teeth, and clasped his other hand over bloodied knuckles, and rested his forehead on his thumbs, shoulders sagging.

Stupid teachers.

Stupid rules.

Stupid people.

Stupid social norms.

There were times he hated being a noble, despite what his pride told him. Sometimes, he just wanted to be a normal student, without rumors soiling his family's past, without a temper that rivaled Vesuvius. Without a surname that scared almost everyone away, and a temperament that made sure those that weren't deterred by 'Nightray' steered clear as well. A normal student with a normal life and normal friends who also had normal lives.

Stupid normal.

"Elliot?"

He jumped, and looked sidelong at his servant, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Or at least, from around the corner. Sighing, he tried to hide his hand behind his back.

"Leo – where'd you come from?"

Leo didn't even miss a beat. "What'd you do to your hand?" The noire's gaze was then drawn to the hole in the wall. "…And the wall?"

Elliot had the decency to look apologetic. "It was… an accident."

"The punch, or the hole?"

"Um… the hole. I expected…"

Leo cocked a brow. "What? That the wall would be harder?"

_Yes. _Elliot just stared at him dryly, before taking notice of the piece of paper his friend held in his hand. "What's that?"

Leo glanced at it as well. "Oh – my new schedule. I, uh… had a talk with the headmaster. I assume, with the wall and everything, you did too."

Elliot scowled in response, bringing his hands in front of him and slowly lifting his good hand away to inspect his wounded knuckles. That was answer enough, he figured. Leo was smart enough to figure it out from there.

True enough, Leo sighed. "Thought so… Hey, who knows; maybe the headmaster's right. This is probably for the best. And if anything, we'll meet some new people."

"Yeah, right, that's the last thing you want, and you and I both know it. If you'll recall how you so gracefully introduced yourself to me…"

"You were in the same boat, Mr. Noble."

"Oh… shut up."

Leo snickered. "So we're both bad with people. That's the whole reason for this, right? To get better at it."

Folding his arms over his chest, Elliot tucked his bleeding knuckles under his arm to try and cease their stinging. "Couldn't he just… tell us to get better at it without splitting us up like we did something wrong, d*****?"

"I think his reasons are good ones, Elliot. It'll do both of us good to get along alone for a while. That doesn't mean we can't hang out during our free time, and we do kinda live in the same house. You're not gonna die because you have to go through classes alone."

Elliot just chewed on the inside of his cheek and glared at the hole in the wall. He didn't like when other people were right.

He heard Leo sigh, and then his friend slugged him in the arm. "Quit moping, you baby. Come on; classes are over. Let's go to the music room." With that, Leo headed down the hallway, tucking the paper inside the book he was carrying. Elliot whirled around, eyes fiery, and darted after him.

"HEY! I'm not a baby!"


	7. Making History

**A/N: This one was really sad for me to write... Set just after the Unbirthday Retrace, and mostly a theme of painful dramatic irony (for those who don't know the poetic definition, that's when the audience knows about something that the characters don't; usually something bad, or tragic). So... Yeah. Hope you enjoy. As much as a fan can enjoy a painful truth about their fandom. DX**

**WARNING: This chapter may contain mild spoilers for as far back as Retrace 47.**

**~Penelope**

* * *

**Theme: Making History**

So he'd made a pact with the Vessalius kid.

So what?

It was about time someone went on the offensive. The kid was stupid for not saying something earlier. Why'd he have to waste all that time before the tea party blabbering about Edgar and self-sacrifice and all that stuff? When they could've been working toward mending things between the families; 'cause that was best for everyone. No more of this useless feud…

Elliot sighed, leaning his head back against the bench, staring at the ceiling as the carriage rumbled along. Watching the curtains sway.

Who was he fooling? He'd been an idiot. For all he hated people judging him before they got to know him, he'd gone and done the same thing. For years. Blindly, out of pure respect for his father, hating a family who had personally done nothing to him. And then Oz came along, learned he was a Nightray, and didn't give a care.

Puh, Elliot scoffed. What kind of a hypocrite was he? Going on and on about disliking people who treated him well because of his rank, flattered him because of his wealth. Preferring people treat him as him, and no one else. As Elliot – not Nightray, not scion, not noble. To ignore his family's dark reputation, and invite him into the light of their own accord.

Oz had done just that, and Elliot had treated him like trash. Just because of a stupid surname… How much more stupid could you get?

"Elliot?"

He opened his eyes, realizing he was grimacing, and glanced across the carriage at his valet. Leo blinked at him like an owl from behind his round glasses.

"Are you all right?"

Elliot snickered, shaking his head and staring down at his polished shoes. Polished to perfection… He really did hate being a noble sometimes. So focused on outward appearance that you forget that you're more than frills and lace and satin and sharply pressed seams. You forget you're flesh and blood, a living, breathing creature with a soul and a beating heart teeming with emotion… When you're a noble, you're none of that.

He shook his head again. "No… No, Leo, I'm not."

Leo actually looked surprise. No wonder; Elliot didn't admit to weakness often and the few times he did, never so blatantly, honestly. Another side effect of being a noble; as if it were a disease, something in the blood, something that took hold of you and tainted you from the inside out, filled your veins and turned your blood black with cold callouseness and suffocated you, killed you before you even knew it was there…

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" Elliot muttered, leaning his head back again to stare at the ceiling.

"Yes." No hesitation. Leo's blunt answer brought a smirk to his face.

"You have no sympathy, do you?"

Leo shook his head, setting his book beside him on the bench. "Not for you, I don't."

A laugh escaped him, and with another sigh, Elliot closed his eyes. "You think there's a chance?"

"For what?"

"Changing things. Making things better. Between our families."

Leo was quiet a long while before he finally answered. "Harder challenges have been faced. I know that for sure… Yes, I think there's a chance. There's always a chance. Particularly when stubborn people like you and Oz are involved. You'll make it work, come Hell or high water. One way or another, you'll get your way, and the Nightrays and the Vessalius' will finally reconcile."

"I'm a hypocrite."

Leo kicked him in the shin and Elliot bolted upright, jerking his knee up to clasp his hands around his now aching leg with a twisted grimace. He glared at his servant only to find the noire looking quite serious.

"Don't you start, too. Oz already has emo issues."

"Yup – no sympathy," Elliot gritted out through clenched teeth, rubbing his sore shin before setting his foot back on the floor and sliding to the far end of the bench, out of the reach of Leo's foot. "I'm not being emo; hello? I'm admitting I was wrong! Be grateful!"

Leo arched a brow, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I knew you were."

"Sure you did…" Elliot folded his arms and hunched into the corner. Trust Leo to ruin a moment. Whatever that moment was. A moment of humanity? Humility? Regret? Revelation? Whatever it was, it'd had Elliot feeling pretty good, and then Leo'd gone and spoiled it. When he finally glanced at the orphan again, he saw a half-smile had quirked Leo's face.

"Seriously, Elliot… This is big. I mean, this is more than forgetting the past, bridging a gap forged by generations of distrust and pride… This is history. Whatever happens now will be remembered for countless years to come. The choices that you and Oz Vessalius make will effect posterity indefinitely – your children and grandchildren and all the Nightrays to come after, as well as the Vessalius', and probably in effect, all the other dukedoms! This, Elliot – you are making history. Don't treat it lightly, and _don't _spoil it by beating yourself up!"

Elliot scowled. "I wasn't beating myself up! It actually felt pretty good! Felt like I got something off my chest."

Again, Leo cocked a brow and tilted his head with a smug aura. "Really? You, of all people, felt good vocalizing that you were wrong and Oz Vessalius, of all people, was right? Because I've seen it happen before, however rare it might've been, and believe me – it never made you feel good. Made you crabby and… annoying. More so than usual, I mean."

Leo. Elliot clenched his jaw, and huddled further into his corner, glaring at, well… anything, really. Yeah, no sympathy. None whatsoever.

Still. Leo would be Leo. And that was a part of history that would certainly never change.

* * *

**A/N: Like I said. Painful. So much that I'm sure they expected out of life that neither of them got... The Nightray family won't have blood posterity. And Leo... isn't Leo anymore. :(**


	8. Heart Song

**A/N: I strongly suggest you listen to Fear Not This Night from Guild Wars 2 while reading this. It is the song that inspired it, and I actually imagine Elliot playing it (a piano version, anyway XP).**

**~Penelope**

* * *

**Theme: Heart Song**

The piano bench creaked as he settled down onto it, the surface a cold jarring of reality through his nightclothes that chased away what remained of the sleep behind his cobalt eyes. He shuddered in the darkness, and set the lamp down atop the grand piano's lid. He watched the warm orange light flicker off the sleek black surface, and smiled slightly, even as he felt the dark circles weighing down his eyes, begging him to go back to bed at this time of night.

The instrument was beautiful. He looked at it as any other man would look at a prize stallion, or his reputable wife. Something more valuable to him than anything else, something precious that he cherished. When all else failed… he still had that piano. Even Leo, as good a friend and servant as he was, couldn't always give Elliot what he needed – peace, quiet, a listening ear, and a willingness to do exactly as he told it. He could never blame it for mistakes, for it was as a mirror, reflecting only what looked into it with a harsh reality that would pierce to the heart of any mortal.

He feathered his fingers over the keys reverently, like one might caress the cheek of a lover. A smile quirked his tired face, and steadied his hands.

He had no notes, no music sheets, nothing. The only time he dared playing like so was when he simply needed to pour his soul out in song.

The nightmares had returned. The awful ones.

He hit an A minor with his left hand, and let the low notes ring through the music room, echo off the walls, come back to send shivers up his spine. The wind howled against the windows like the low drone of an ethereal choir. Closing his eyes, he altered his fingers just the slightest, and let ring another minor chord, already composing a stirring progression to follow.

Once he had found a suitable chorus progression, he began to slowly moving his right hand along the high notes, working out a striding lead that sounded like a hopeless march into battle. Repeating that lead, he poured into it emotion – sorrow, hopeless valor, fear of not knowing what's to come – that soon brought both the lead and the progression to suspenseful crescendo before coming to an abrupt halt.

Still having not opened his eyes, he paused, bringing his fingers back to the starting point, and began again, quiet and careful as a music box. A melody began floating its way through his mind, and with a brief peek at the keys, he slowly tapped it out on the keys.

By the time he finished two verses, he'd already come up with the chorus, and it rolled from his fingers with the grace and power of ocean waves, flooding the room with the rush of its current and filled to the brim with the image of hope, vain hope, fool's hope, even when fire blazes about the innocent, when the blades of villains drip with their blood, and he didn't know why…

He didn't know why…

Grimacing, he kept building, the song climbing ever higher as he fought against the despair of his mind with the hope of his heart. Hope? For what? He shook his head to himself, pressing the keys ever harder.

He didn't know.

He never knew.

And when the hero fell at the villain's hand… The hope paused. It wavered. The song drifted with the trickling of minor notes, like drops of blood on a stone floor…

With a deep breath, he lifted his left hand off the keys, and tentatively played out the melody of the chorus again in the silence of the room. Once around, like the burning of a small, helpless flame after a torrential rain. Against all odds, hope rose once more.

Then it exploded into an all-out blaze once more. Good resisted the evil, and rose up to conquer. The song soared with triumph as Elliot's fingers flew over the keys with the passion that teemed in the deepest recesses of his chest, passion so often squelched, stifled for the sake of his noble name, for the sake of appearance, reputation, out of respect for his family. Passion that he could only truly express… through this.

Music.

The language of his soul.

Again, he brought the song to an abrupt stop, letting the notes vibrate until they were once more silent. A fleeting thought dove down to where he was immersed in the moment to whisper in his ear.

_This… would sound wonderful… with a two-part harmony._

Someone sat on the bench beside him, at his left. Without even opening his eyes, he knew who it was. He slid over to give the other room, and then he revisited the chorus with slow, deliberate strokes of his fingers. By the trilling of the high notes, two other hands had joined him.

So he'd been there for a while, then. Elliot smiled to himself. At long last, the song ended with an echo of promised peace and resolution, like a new dawn over a bloody battlefield, reverberating with grief for the lost, and yet hope for victory. A victory nigh at hand…

He opened his eyes. He looked sidelong at Leo, smiled at him. Leo smiled back.

"When did you write that?" the servant asked quietly, voice sounding even softer after the power of the piano notes.

Elliot shrugged. "Just now."

"What do you call it?"

"…Heartsong."


	9. Rebirth

**A/N: This is a bit of an AU chapter. :)**

**Theme: Rebirth**

He was climbing. Up, up, up… He couldn't stop. He didn't know why. All he knew was that he had to climb. He had to fly. He had to get out of there, out of this deep, dark dungeon…

Alyss said the new Glen Baskerville took Chains under his wing. New Chains, Chains that wished to see the world above. It had been so long… He needed to be the one this time. He had to be picked. He couldn't stay another day in this darkness. He had never seen light before, but something in his soul told him that it was wonderful. He knew that he wanted to see the light as much as he knew, by the burning in his gut, that he could breathe fire.

The young drake clawed his way through the darkness, going up and up, never stopping. The Abyss was vast and immense; he had such little time! Glen would come any time now.

In the deep shadows, a glimpse of white caught his attention. Even without a clear look, he knew who it was. The blasted White Knight. Swerving to the side, he plunged forward and plowed into the giant armored chess piece and both of them barreled off course. The Knight shrieked, wriggling from his grasp and darting away, white hair flowing.

"Back off, you overgrown lizard!" she* hissed, eyes glowing gold. "This time is mine!"

"Not a chance." With a reptilian roar, he leapt at her, boosting his momentum with a flap of his wings. He caught a fistful of her hair, and hurled her around behind him with it. She was flung into the darkness, and he hurried to resume his climbing. The doors. The doors! He had to reach the doors!

He saw them. Just above, waiting for him. They would open any moment and let the Glen in.

With an ethereal scream, the Knight burst under him, rearing her head to knock into his ribs. Even through his armor-like scales, he felt a rib crack and shrilled in pain. Before she could pass him, he dug his talons into her, and, passing through to the next level, revolved around and slammed her into the invisible floor, using all his weight against her. He wrapped her hair in his hand to get a better grip, and slammed her head against the ground. She thrashed, swinging her head like a club, and screamed so loud his ears throbbed, but using his wings to press down, he held her. He couldn't let her take away his chance!

The doors creaked. Startled, he looked up. The Knight took her chance and threw him off, slamming him into an invisible wall. His bones strained, and he howled, clawing at her face, her eyes, her hair, anything to get her off.

"Enough."

It was as if an invisible hand reached out and yanked the Knight off, sending her careening into open Abyss. She stopped herself, took one look at the now open doors, and bowed low. Picking himself off the floor, he managed to follow her gaze.

Glen Baskerville stood there in the middle of the darkness, shrouded in his red cloak. His ruler, his king. Battered though he was, he lowered himself into a bow, and felt the weight of the young duke's gaze on him. Pale hands reached up and pulled the red hood back, revealing a head of black hair, and gleaming silver-black eyes.

"What is your name?"

"My lord Glen," said the Knight from her place groveling on the floor. "I am-"

"Not you." Glen ignored her, looking at him and awaiting his answer.

Grimacing, he lifted his head and stood proud, extending his wings to show their span. He needed Glen to see him as a mighty Chain, or he wouldn't be chosen. "I am Draco, my lord Glen."

"Draco… I feel like we've met before."

Draco searched his memory. He had never met a Glen before, especially this newly-appointed Glen. He was young, they said. Only 16. And bitter, after the loss of a dear friend… They rumored that he wanted to find the Will, and reverse time. For what? No Chain knew.

He shook his head. "I have never met you, my lord Glen. If I had, I would have remembered you."

Glen studied him closely, narrowing his eyes. Quite suddenly, his eyes widened and he looked surprised. And then, once more, his mask was stoic again. In that brief break, the boy had looked much younger, and much less imposing, almost like a completely different person…

"You have both come to seek a contract, I presume," he said.

Draco nodded, while the Knight groveled closer. "Yes, my lord Glen. It is the highest honor to-"

"You talk too much."

The Knight shut up, and Draco gained a new level of respect for Glen. He didn't seem afraid of the Chains or the Abyss in the least; not that either could do anything to Glen even if they wanted to.

"Draco… come out with me."

Draco raised his head, looking to the Glen with awe. Had he… really just asked him to exit the doors?

Glen smiled – it was forced; bitter, indeed – and beckoned him toward the doors.

"But… mustn't you forge the contract here, in the Abyss, my lord Glen?" Draco asked, but stepped forward. Who was he to refuse if Glen told him to follow?

"I want to get a better look at you. I need light to do that."

Light… Draco couldn't resist the grin. He was going to see the light.

As the doors opened wider, and Draco cast a grin over his shoulder at the Knight. She was glaring at him, and he knew that if they ever met in the world above, it would be a battle to the death. She would not let him live past another encounter.

The sentiment was mutual.

He followed Glen to the doors, and gazed at their might. Once he stepped through them… he would be out. He would be in the world above, he would be in the light. And maybe, if Glen liked what he saw there, he would even get a contract, and then he would get to stay. Not just any contract, but a contract with Glen Baskerville.

He stepped through the doors.

The world shifted, and he felt as if he were hurled forward at a great speed. Then, he was falling, but only a short distance, before he sprawled on a hard surface with a thin, soft cover. A floor of some kind… What was the layer of fuzzy red stuff, though?

Funny, he had materialized in physical form. Other Chains spoke of being contracted, and then put into Limbo, to await their contractors' calls. But perhaps it was because he was not contracted yet… He could feel the strain of being outside the Abyss wearing on his bones already. Using his wings, he reoriented himself, and his gaze searched for Glen. He found himself to be surrounded by others in red cloaks, other members of the Baskerville clan. There were many of them. More than the stories told. Perhaps this Glen had added to their numbers, replenished those lost in the Great Tragedy…

There was Glen. Standing, to his right, in a rectangle of light from a window – a real window! One that looked outside and let in the most brilliant…

"Impossible."

He looked back to Glen, puzzled. He tilted his head. Glen was staring, again wide-eyed, staggering back with his gaze locked on his. Draco was confused. Had he done something wrong?

Just the thought spiked fear in him. Would Glen send him back?

Standing and hearing his claws scrape on the floor, he suddenly realized how much heavier he felt. His tail no longer flowed so weightlessly behind him; it took muscle to hold it and his wings up, as well as his neck. It was so strange to have a form more than shadow.

Before Draco could say a word, Glen stood before him, holding out a hand. A cut bled crimson, contrasting with the pale skin. "Make a contract with me."

Draco was surprised at the suddenness of it, but wasn't about to hesitate. He bit on his own hand, and then clasped his massive paw around the human's small appendage.

_"Aren't _you _supposed to be _my _servant!?"_

* * *

Leo was hyperventilating by the time he reached his quarters. He'd broken through Glen after… after…

It was the voice that first caught his attention. In the recesses of his mind to which he had retreated, he'd heard the echoes of a voice he never thought he'd hear again. Glen had humored him, and asked if they had met before. The dragon Chain had answered negatively. Then, Leo had wanted to see it for himself. He took his eyes back, and took in the dragon's appearance himself.

It was massive. An impressive beast of sleek muscle and gleaming blue-black scales. But what had gotten his attention were the eyes.

Cobalt blue. Shining like sapphire moons, and hauntingly familiar.

He sat back on his bed. His hands were shaking. He looked at his right hand, and the bandage surrounding it.

And then, in the light…

The dragon had dark purple streaks interrupting the black of his body. One formed a lighter-colored mask over his eyes, save for one, single scale. That single scale was black, and reminisced of a small beauty mark at the corner of the dragon's left eye.

That had done it, and Leo had formed a contract with the Chain.

Now, he sat in his chambers, fending off intrusions by the Glens; he had to think!

How was it possible? How could it be…?

She… She** had said she would take care of him before they sunk into the Abyss; _he _had been dying in her arms, bleeding, suffering the consequences of rejecting Humpty Dumpty. But that was all months ago. Since then, Glen… Glen had destroyed Pandora. Glen had captured Oz at long last, and thrown him into the Abyss to once again be Oz, the B-Rabbit, forbidden to resurface. Glen had reestablished the Baskervilles in their place of power, and had reduced the Vessalius dukedom to ash.

And Leo had let him.

But now… if it was even possible…

_"It is an honor," _Draco had said. _"I do not think you know how great an honor it is to be contracted to you, my lord Glen."_

Leo had stared at him, then. Studied. Daring to hope. Perhaps there was a way to get him back, he had thought. Perhaps, if he could come back as a Chain… his being, what made him who he was, had to go somewhere. Deep in the Abyss… perhaps he could find him.

_"Call me… Leo."_

* * *

***This White Knight is a Chain of my own invention, a replacement that Alyss made since she killed Albus.**

****This is a reference to my OC, Nerys Winterspell, and her part in Elliot's rescue. While I haven't written that story yet, I will soon. So hang tight.**

**A/N: Again. This is not a pairing oneshot. And since I haven't done a disclaimer in a while: I DO NOT OWN PANDORA HEARTS. If I did, Elliot wouldn't have died. XP Reviews are appreciated, and will be rewarded with a ride on chain!Elliot's back. :3**

**~Penelope**


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